


Luke 2.0

by Laylah



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Androids, Community: kink_bingo, Intimacy, M/M, mecha-guro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy signed on to be the personal assistant to FabreCor's company heir. It turns out he's actually been looking after the heir's replica...and that's surprisingly hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luke 2.0

Guy almost can't believe it's true. Sure, FabreCor has always been one of the more cautious—let's be honest, more paranoid—of the zaibatsu, and if anyone would have the means to do that kind of R&D, it's them, but...but they did it so _well_ , that's the thing. For the last seven years, Guy has been taking care of a _synthetic replica_ of the company heir.

...He's been participating in one of the most amazing experiments in AI learning anyone has ever devised, and he didn't even know.

The thought makes his heart race with sheer excitement, makes his hands tremble a little as he stops in front of "Luke's" door and knocks.

"Come in," the replica calls, and he's doing such a perfect imitation of a sulking voice that Guy gets a little shiver down his spine. He turns the knob—the family house is big on old-fashioned fixtures—and opens the door. "Hey, Luke," he says.

The replica Luke is sitting on the edge of his bed, hands in his lap, shoulders slumped. It's a completely lifelike posture of dejection. Guy hardly knows what to do with himself. "Guy," the replica says. His expression shifts seamlessly to confusion. "Why are you here?" His eyes are pleading. It's unbelievable; how can he possibly be constructed? "I thought you'd go be with the real one."

"Hey, don't be like that," Guy says. It's so easy to fall back into the same consoling patterns he's been using with "Luke" for years; this really doesn't feel like talking to a machine. "We're friends, aren't we?"

The replica's eyes widen; his facial expressions are amazing. "Really?"

Guy smiles reassuringly. "Really," he says.

"Luke" smiles back, almost perfectly natural. "Thanks, Guy," he says. His smile turns wry. "I guess if anybody wouldn't mind, it would be you, huh?"

"Haha, yeah, I guess I deserve that," Guy says, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He's only an amateur engineer, self-taught, but what he lacks in actual training he makes up for with a _lot_ of enthusiasm. "But it's not _just_ because you're a replica, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Guy," Luke says, and it feels natural. It's true, Guy realizes; Luke might have been artificially created, but he's learned to be somebody whose company Guy genuinely enjoys. "I know you're dying for a chance to ask if you can open me up and see how I work."

Guy feels that suggestion hit him hard: it makes him shudder, makes his mouth dry and his palms damp. He has to wipe his hands on his pants and take a few deep breaths before he can say, "Well, if I wasn't thinking about it before...."

Luke laughs, and Guy just—he _knows_ that laughter is the product of complicated algorithms, pattern recognition and programmed learning, but he can't _believe_ it. It seems too real. "You're, man, what's the word you always used for me? You're incorrigible."

"Guilty as charged," Guy says. Luke is his friend, circuitry or not. And he has to admit he _does_ want to see.

"If...if you really want to," Luke says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He looks suddenly serious, and the quiet tone makes him sound nervous. Vulnerable.

"Only if you're okay with it," Guy says. It must be hard—as weird as it is for all of them to come to terms with the fact that Luke is artificial, that's nothing compared to what it would feel like to find out something like that about yourself.

For a second Luke looks like he's trying to make up his mind. What speed does his processor run? Does it really take him that long to make the decisions, or is he programmed to include the delay so he'll seem more natural? "I think it's okay," he says. "I trust you."

"Thanks, Luke," Guy says. He watches, quiet, not quite but almost holding his breath: Luke tugs his shirt off and drops it on the floor, then reaches up to place his fingers along his collarbone on both sides. Fitting his fingertips to specific places, it looks like, and then he presses down—and a thin seam appears down the middle of his chest, right where his breastbone should be. It's really true. He really is completely synthetic.

Luke slips his fingertips into the seam and peels it slowly open, pulling the skin—silicone, maybe? with some kind of heavier mesh backing to give it support?—back to expose a complicated weave of wires underneath.

"Wow," Guy breathes. He can't look away. He wants to touch. He feels like—"Does it—it doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No," Luke says. "I'm...supposed to be able to do this. It doesn't hurt. It just feels kind of weird." He smiles a little wryly. "Like I won't be able to relax until I'm all closed up again."

Guy sits down next to him, peering into the open...open panel of Luke's chest; what he'd taken for just wires from further away looks like a dense, overlapping coil of flexible silvery cables, wired into a little black box at Luke's sternum and stretching toward his shoulders on both sides. "Can you...can you move for me a little?" he asks.

Luke makes a muffled snorting noise like he's holding back laughter and raises one arm. The cables on that side ripple and contract with the movement. Guy's no expert on anatomy, but it looks like they're trying to mimic the way muscle functions.

"That's beautiful," Guy says softly. You're... _amazing_ , Luke."

"Ah," Luke says, "I—thanks, I guess."

Guy frowns. "You guess, huh?" he says. He looks up to meet Luke's eyes. "What's the matter?"

Luke shrugs, the artificial muscle of his chest flexing and sliding smoothly. "It's just...this isn't—okay, it's dumb to say it isn't me, I know that." He chews on his lip. "But it's...the way I'm made is...not something I can help. Not something I did. It feels weird to have you like me for that."

"Hey, Luke, no," Guy says. He reaches for Luke's hand; even knowing it's not real skin, it's hard to feel the difference. "I'm sorry, I deserved that. But it's not like that, I promise." Luke squeezes his fingers, watching him hopefully. "I mean, I can't deny that it's really hot, but that's really not the only thing I like about you. I like Luke-the-person. I meant it about being friends."

"Even though I'm...not really a person?" Luke says dubiously. "Not really Luke."

"You are too a person," Guy says, and realizes he means it. "And you're definitely the Luke that I know. I don't care if you're not the first Luke."

Luke takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh of relief, and Guy feels his heart clench. He sort of wants to hug Luke now, but he's not sure if that would be a good idea with the panel still open like that, so he just scoots a little closer and wraps an arm gently around Luke's shoulders. Luke leans his head on Guy's shoulder. It's going to be okay. This might take some getting used to, but it doesn't really change things between them. Not in the ways that count.

And then Luke says, "So it's really hot, huh?"

Guy's cheeks flush warm. "Well, ah," he says.

"All those times I teased you about wanting to make out with robots, I was actually onto something?"

He sounds entertained by the idea, so Guy says, "Well, not just any robot, you know. Come on. I have standards."

Luke turns enough to look him in the eyes. "How about this one?"

It's not exactly a surprise that is where they were going—Luke's never really been _subtle_ —but Guy still has to just sit there for a few seconds and stare while he tries to get his brain back in gear. Eventually he manages, "You...you want me to kiss you, Luke?"

"Yeah," Luke says. "I think I do."

Maybe Guy should wait; maybe this is wrapped up in Luke trying to pretend he's just like a real—no, just like an organic person. Maybe it's just a need for connection when he's learned something unsettling. But maybe putting him off would hurt him, make him think there was something wrong with being the way he is—and maybe that's rationalization, when Guy knows he wants to go through with it—

And definitely he's sitting here silently worrying about maybes too long, because Luke's face is slowly falling, his shoulders hunching in. "Luke, it's okay," Guy says. "I'm just—I'm nervous, too. That's all. Here." He cups Luke's cheek in one hand and leans in to press their lips together.

The kiss _feels_ normal at first touch—the material of Luke's lips mimics flesh amazingly well. The difference only becomes obvious when Luke's mouth opens, his tongue meeting Guy's; his mouth is strangely dry and tastes subtly plastic. It's not overwhelming, just enough to be a vivid reminder that Luke is artificial—and that's enough to make Guy hard, proving all those years of teasing right beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He rests his other hand against the warmth of Luke's side, the smooth texture and just-firm-enough resistance under his touch. Luke is learning from the kiss, leaning into him, mimicking the way he moves at first and then trying slightly different things—the curl of his tongue, the way he presses closer. That would be pretty sexy anyway, Guy thinks, but knowing about Luke's circumstances makes it mind-blowing. And when Guy bites gently at Luke's lower lip, tugging just a little, Luke's moan is _perfect_.

"Wow," he says when Guy pulls back a little to look at him. "Wow, Guy." His cheeks have a faint pink flush to them, amazingly organic in contrast with the exposed workings of his chest.

"Yeah," Guy says. "Seems like you—like you feel things just the same as anyone else, huh."

Luke smiles, and god, his smile is beautiful. "I guess so," he says. "Let's do that some more."

Guy doesn't need to be asked twice. He pulls Luke into another kiss, slow and lingering. Luke's hands explore, tracing Guy's shoulders, his back, his sides. When Guy gives in to temptation and slips one hand up between them so he can touch the bare cables of synthetic muscle in Luke's chest, it's so cool he almost can't stand it.

It's easy to guide Luke down so they're stretched out on the bed, so their limbs can tangle together as they touch each other. Guy imagines he can feel the regular pattern in the texture of Luke's tongue—probably he can't really, probably it's too subtle to pick up as they kiss, but just knowing the distinction is there is fascinating. Fascinating and _hot_ ; he keeps wanting to rock his hips forward and grind his cock against Luke.

And then Luke beats him to it, and he nearly goes off in his pants. "Guy," Luke says, soft and shaky, clutching at Guy's shoulders, kneading.

"Oh, wow, Luke," Guy says, "your—" wait, no, it would be insensitive to say _your programming is impressive_ at a time like this—"you're hard, too, huh."

Luke nods. "I want to—I mean, can we? Or would that be too weird?"

"Come on," Guy says, grinning at him. "Who do you think you're talking to?" He sits back on his heels so Luke will have room to move. "Here, take those off and let me see you."

"Right," Luke says. He fumbles his buttons a little as he gets his pants open, pushing them down off his hips with very human enthusiasm. Whoever was responsible for this part of his design was clearly an expert in the field: Luke's cock is substantial but not disproportionate, the shaft enticingly thick, the skin almost completely smooth and flushed redder at the crown. His pubic hair is a shade or two darker than the firey bright color of the hair on his head, but it looks like it's the same kind of silky fiber, inviting to the touch; he spreads his legs a little so Guy can kneel between them and get a closer look. "You know, you kind of look like you're thinking about eating me right now," he says.

Guy ducks his head, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry," he says.

"It's okay," Luke says. "I just...I hope you're going to do more than just look."

"So impatient," Guy says, but he splays his hands across Luke's thighs and slides them up slowly. There must be seams here somewhere, too, but he can't feel them. "It feels good, huh?"

"Yeah," Luke says, "it—oh, yes please," as Guy slides one hand up further and cups his balls. They move as a single unit under the skin, which is a little strange, and the skin itself is just slightly too thick to feel natural, but the way he shivers with pleasure seems completely real. Guy strokes him, watching him writhe; he's a masterpiece, and his enjoyment is amazing to watch. When Guy's hand slides up from Luke's balls to curl around the shaft of his cock, Luke whines in his throat desperately. Why would you program a replica with these responses?

Knowing FabreCor, he'll never get to meet the engineers to ask. All he can do is be grateful for their thoroughness or perversity, whichever this is. "You know, I think you had a good idea, there, suggesting that I eat you," Guy says. He squirms further down the bed, licking his lips to wet them as Luke's eyes widen.

"Guy, you're the best," Luke says fervently, and then he moans sweetly as Guy swallows the head of his cock.

The plastic taste is more obvious here—not stronger, exactly, but more definitely not the taste of cock. It's a constant reminder that Luke isn't human, that Guy is sucking off a completely artificially created person. He manages about thirty seconds before that idea has him fumbling his own pants open, desperate to get some relief himself. Luke's cock slides on his tongue, just stiff enough, just thick enough, so close to human but not. Guy looks up so he can see the open panel of Luke's chest as he starts jerking off.

"Y-you like seeing it," Luke says. "My—how I'm made."

Guy moans. He can't help it and he definitely can't deny it—Luke's human shell is attractive, but his mechanical workings make him impossibly sexy. He strokes himself harder, trying to take Luke's cock a little further down his throat.

Luke activates some other set of hidden release triggers, and a seam unseals all the way down the length of his stomach, straight to the arch of his pubic bone. "Here," he says. "You can look." He slips his fingers under the edge of the skin and peels it open, revealing the overlapping cables of muscle, the fine sensors threaded into the mesh backing of his skin, a few tantalizing glimpses of a black-and-silver chip set just visible through the gaps in the outer layers.

He's a machine. He's a sweet, friendly, gorgeous machine with his cock down Guy's throat and his inner workings laid bare for Guy to see them, a machine capable of trust and laughter and arousal, a machine and a person at the same time, and Guy comes so hard on that thought that it _hurts_.

"Oh," Luke says, "oh—Guy, that's—I want to, please, don't stop, I—" And Guy has to wonder, can he come? It sure feels like he's getting close; would his engineers have built in a mechanism for him to actually—"Guy, so good, I'm—" His back arches, cables glistening as they pull tight, and then—there's no fluid to fill Guy's mouth, but the pulsing thrum of his cock is familiar—and then there's a hiss and spit of sparks, just for a second, in the exposed interior of his torso.

Luke slumps back against the bed and Guy sits up in a hurry. "Are you okay?" he asks. He grabs for Luke's hand.

"Y-yeah," Luke says, smiling crookedly. "It...that doesn't happen when I'm not open," he says. "I think I'm okay."

"Right, okay," Guy says. "I guess now we know. Don't leave your works exposed for, ah, something like that." He slides his hands up Luke's sides and inward, smoothing skin back over Luke's mechanics. There's a tiny, almost imperceptible _click_ when the pieces meet in the middle, and the seam heals itself until it's completely invisible. "Wow," Guy says. Again. This is going to take some time to get used to.

"Yeah, um. It was good for me, too," Luke says.

Guy has to laugh, stretching out beside Luke and pulling him close. "Good," he says.

Luke curls up against him, head pillowed on Guy's shoulder. "Next time," he says, and Guy thrills at the thought of there being a next time, "you should let me do something for you, too. Give me a chance to see how _you're_ different."

"Fair enough," Guy says, burying his smile in the soft fibers of Luke's hair. "It's a deal."


End file.
